


Silent

by Leni



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-03
Updated: 2010-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between <span class="u">Prophecy Girl</span> and <span class="u">When She was Bad</span>. Giles has an unexpected surprise during a routine patrol. (B/A hints)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for[Open On Sunday](http://open_on_sunday.livejournal.com). **Prompt:** water._
> 
> (8 drabbles)

A quiet summer. Much more so than the children believed. Of all the illegally obtained… " _Hacked_ , Giles." Xander had corrected, pointing at a dictionary in triumph. Not that any of the supplied meanings accurately defined Willow's talent… Ah, well. Of all the _appropriated_ coroner records flagged as 'iffy', only a few deserved his attention.

Of course, his main worry still escaped Willow's overzealous research. On good days he envied the girl's naïve trust; on bad nights…

"Angel," he greeted.

On bad nights he wondered if (when) the water running over a soul-cursed bridge would drench them all in old blood.

 

*

 

Hands in deep jacket pockets, the taller figure seemed to fidget before their eyes met. Too quickly for Giles's automatic suspicion to be veiled. Not a challenge, but its pale prelude flashed in Angel's eyes before he straightened subtly, threw his shoulders back.

Still waters ran deep. Murky still waters, too.

"Smart vampires don't bury their pupils in Slayer territory."

A statement.

A (former) self-description?

Smart. Intelligent. Cunning. _Devious_.

The unanimous description of the creature Angel had been - and could be? History proved that souls didn't guarantee goodness.

"Or in mine," he continued, his smile dark.

…and Giles believed him.

 

*

 

Giles eased his grip on the blackwood cross peeking from under his left lapel. He replaced it into the inside pocket, forced himself to hang his hand back at his side. "I thought you'd be out of town." It was the truth. He hadn't expected to meet Buffy's vampire during her absence - or to be thinking of him as such.

Angel's posture relaxed, just barely; the curve of his lips softened. Wild emotional waters returned to its course. "She deserves some privacy."

If only. But _his_ calling included reading reports from unseen Council agents. "Not when she's the Slayer."

 

*

 

Untrusting eyes regarded him, their positions reversed. But no words. A tiny shrug of Angel's shoulders; nothing more to serve as solid chastisement, nothing against which to defend himself.

It'd be childish to object such a silence, utter foolery to address that which had been politely left unsaid. For Giles, whose blood ran hotter than the children needed to know, it was unusual punishment to be forced to stifle his protests.

Punishment?

He examined the word's weight, thought of still waters and decades spent between opposite shores….

Devious. Cruel. _Connoisseur of pain._

Like water, pain too morphed depending its vessel.

 

*

 

Had the blow been intended, or just the side effect of a suitor's unchecked temper?

Angel's voice cut through his musings: "She is awake."

"Who…?" He got a look. Giles followed it to the unmoved earth, the lazy grass shining with silver moisture under the moonlight. "Oh." In puzzling out a vampire's handle of psychological warfare, he'd forgotten the obvious danger. Vampires were predators, with a predator's senses.

"Be ready," Angel snapped, his hand suddenly around a long stake. He moved closer, shedding any earlier hesitance as he followed the fledgling's movement.

Giles saw only the silent grave, and shuddered.

 

*

 

Haylee Hill.   
1981 - 1996.   
_Dear Daughter. Too soon taken from us._

Three days before her trip to L.A. Buffy had pointed out that cursive letters abounded among teenagers' tombstones, and please make sure she got something less predictable? "I won't be picky about the wardrobe, promise. As long as there's a decent engraving."

The next night she'd given him a photocopied poem, and highlighted: ON THE CALM BLACK WATER WHERE THE STARS ARE SLEEPING. _*_

"Lighten up, it's almost Shakespeare!" At Giles' alarmed look, she'd shrugged. "Sounds more peaceful than whatever I'll get."

How could he _not_ intrude into her life?

 

*

 

It took longer than Giles expected.

Angel's attention followed an unseen, unheard movement below the ground. (If a tree falls in the middle of the forest…?)

It took so much longer.

When it finally happened, Giles's assistance couldn't be called as such. Whatever remained of Haylee Hill never got the chance to face a cross or be doused in holy water before it was impaled against unforgiving wood.

The impact sound was familiar. That last grunt chased by a cloud of dust. But where Buffy would have broken the resulting silence, Angel's presence made it thicker.

"Thanks," Giles finally said.

 

*

 

Angel lifted a shoulder, already turning away.

Xander would have demanded an answer. Willow would have reassured him that the gratitude was genuine. Buffy….

Would Angel turn away from Buffy?

The graveyard fell silent once again. Giles wondered if, for one horrifying second, Angel had also pictured another young blonde in Miss Hill's place. Or worse. Did he ever revisit a hundred other last moments of a hundred other doomed girls, their faces replaced by the one he claimed to care for?

Were those dreams…

The thought ran like cold water down his spine.

…or nightmares?

His main worry, indeed.

 

***

The End  
24/08/10

***

 _*_  
On the calm black water where the stars are sleeping  
White Ophelia floats like a great lily;

[Ophelia](http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/44934-Arthur-Rimbaud-Ophelia-) by Arthur Rimbaud  



End file.
